Part 34 (1/2)
I wondered if other retail merchants had just these same little problems to solve that I had. I wondered if, in a case like this one, they would have ever thought of suggesting to their customers that they get some friends to buy an article or two occasionally, and compare the prices with those they were charged. . . . I knew the episode wouldn't make Stigler love me any more, for the Sturtevant business amounted to quite a lot. That one order that Miriam Rooney had bought of Stigler had been eighteen dollars' worth.
CHAPTER XXIX
STIGLER RUNS AMUCK
About this time Betty was taken sick, so that I used to go into the elite Restaurant for my lunches. This was a place frequented by a number of business men. Stigler was in there one day when I got in, talking with some of the people who regularly dined there. If ours wasn't a dry town, I should have said that Stigler had been drinking; for, the minute he saw me, he flushed, and an ugly expression came into his face.
”There he is,” he cried to his friends, pointing at me, and he spoke in a voice loud enough for me and everybody else in the place to hear.
”There he is! A pretty little chap he is--oh, so nice that he is!--to stab his compet.i.tor in the back. D--d young whelp!” he said _to_ his friends, but _at_ me. ”What do yer think of a feller that goes behind yer back to hurt yer character? I'd sooner a feller'd come out in the open and fight. D--d character a.s.sa.s.sin!”
His friends looked rather embarra.s.sed. I sat down at the table, apparently not paying the least attention to him, but my head was in a whirl. Then I gave my order to Kitty. I suppose Kitty had another name, but everybody knew her as Kitty. She was a pretty little Irish girl, who had come to our town about five years ago, n.o.body knew from where. Old Collier, the big, fat, kindly old Frenchman who ran the place, at once had given her a job. He was too big-hearted to inquire why she came by herself and why her eyes showed signs of sleeplessness and weeping. He not only gave her a job, but, in a few weeks, had taken her into the family. She at first became known jokingly as Kitty Collier, and soon everybody thought of her by that name. She thought the whole universe revolved around genial old Pierre, who really regarded her as he would his own daughter.
When Kitty first came into the town Betty at once had become her friend; and in fact Betty had been quite severely criticized for making a friend of a girl whose character was unknown. Kitty thought a lot of Betty and, in consequence, of me also.
”I'll bring ye some nice steak,” said Kitty with her pretty brogue, and un.o.btrusively patted my back. She sensed the unhappy position I was in.
When she came back, Stigler was saying in a loud voice: ”There are some people--and their name ain't White, either--that ought to be ridden out o' town!”
Cras.h.!.+ Kitty had dropped her plate, and, to the surprise of every one--especially to me,--she walked over to where Stigler was sitting, gave his hair a vigorous pull, and said:
”Arrah, now, ye dir-rty blackguard, ye're not a gintleman yerself, an'
ye doan't know one, if ye see one. Mr. Black, there, is too much of gintleman to sile his hands on the likes o' you, but _I'm not_!” and with that she gave him a resounding box on the ear.
Stigler jumped up with an oath, while old Pierre ran from behind the counter; Stigler, black with rage, Pierre almost crying with vexation.
Stigler caught Kitty by the arm and angrily swung her around, and then--I forgot myself. I rushed at him and caught him fairly under the jaw. He fell back among the tables; and then some people caught hold of us, and held us both back. Finally Stigler walked out of the restaurant, without another word, while I sat down at the table to eat my steak; but I was trembling all over with the excitement and could eat nothing.
I felt that there was nothing I wouldn't do to be able to run Stigler out of the town. Why he should be so bitter against me I didn't know, unless it was that my business was slowly growing. Of course he had been fond of Betty, but surely he was all over that.
Old Barlow came over to the store, having heard of the fracas.
”Look here, Black,” he said, ”I want you to forget that fracas. Forget Stigler as much as you can. If you see him, don't speak to him; but just drive ahead and 'saw wood.' If he likes to waste his energies in thinking up ways of getting revenge, why, let him do so. Just keep your attention on your business and you'll have a successful business when he is forgotten. No man can build a successful business on spite. No man can increase his bank account while he's trying to make his business a weapon to secure revenge against some one else. I have seen so many business men spoil themselves because they began to worry over compet.i.tion, and, instead of just seeing how they could improve their methods of business they spent good time in seeing how they could fight one individual compet.i.tor. Success to-day isn't made by downing the other fellow, but by building up one's own efficiency in business methods. There's room for you and Stigler and me in this town--in fact,”
he said with a smile, ”we are going to have a little more compet.i.tion yet.”
”Where?” I asked, surprised.
”In Macey Street.”
Macey Street was a busy little street connecting High and Main.
”Who is it?”
”I don't know; but I understand it's one of a chain of stores.”
”What kind of goods are they going to handle?”